Not so surprising when you consider that we learn the craft from the moment we leave the womb. We may just be head and shoulders into the world but the first words we hear on arrival?

"Darling, you've never looked more beautiful."

There you go. First lie. Because if mum looks gorgeous when she's just squeezed out the equivalent of a football, then frankly, there's little hope for bub in the looks department.

As a parent, you need to be alert for lies at all times because that innocent little angel of yours has a devil called Pinnochio sitting (woodenly) on her shoulder.

The tall tale lie

Show and Tell at kindy became known as Show, Tell and LIE among my friends after one developing delinquent secretly stuffed his school bag with all his dad's tennis trophies and took them in. Then claimed he had won them all. Including the local league's trophy for the over-35s.

The lie of omission

This kind of lie is really YOUR fault, as your child will point out.

"Are you texting in bed?"

"No."

"So why can I see the phone glowing under the doona? Don't lie to me, I HATE lies!"

"Dur! I was playing Minecraft. How is that a lie?"

See what they did there? Their lie becomes your fault.

Lesson to learn? Be specific in your line of interrogation and leave no wriggle room.

The getting-the-wrong-end-of-the-stick lie

When a kid tells a porkie for the very best of intentions but gets it completely wrong, you can only show understanding and sympathy (as well as wondering just what genes your partner brought to the relationship to produce such a numbskull).

Example from my eldest:

"So I stood up in class and told the scripture teacher that her religion said that my grandpa was evil just because he's gay. And that no one should care if he was gay or not because he's a good person and I love him."

Great sentiments that I wholeheartedly applaud except Grandpa isn't gay. Small point.

The hand-in-the-cookie-jar lie

When a kid appears looking like a hamster who's just heard that Nuts R Us have run out of, er, nuts and is stockpiling them in its cheeks, you can bet your life that a lie will soon be forthcoming.

"I haven't got anything in my mouth" is the generic form here. But other more specific variations to look out for include:

"It definitely wasn't me who ate the last of the cookies that you said had to go in the lunch boxes tomorrow."

"I did NOT eat the cake. It fell on the floor and I slipped and went face first into it and THAT'S why there's chocolate all around my mouth."

The sympathy lie

One mum I know got called back from work to pick up her daughter from school. The little girl wasn't sick but she couldn't go on the class excursion to a farm because as the school secretary said: "As you know Mrs W, your daughter is severely allergic to ALL animals and will require hospitalisation should one so as much as look at her. Surely you READ the excursion note before signing it?"

Yes she had and no, her conniving off-spring was not allergic to anything, animals included. She just didn't want to go and was enjoying lapping up the sympathy being doled out in the school office to the poor-allergic-girl-with-the-BAD-mother.

The getting-out-of-it lie

Once when my niece was called upon to clear up her toys, she instantly stopped skipping, fell to the floor and said: "I can't. I've broken my ankle. I will never walk again."

Surprisingly that cunning lie was seen straight through but, ever the method actor, Olivia dragged herself along the floor for a good hour. Until she got distracted by a Spacehopper and lo, the ankle was miraculously healed.

The doofus lie

Singer Bobby Farrell performing with his 1970s disco band 'Boney M' during a TV show in Huerth near Cologne, western Germany in 2009. Picture: AFPSource: AFP

See this guy? He was the singer in '70s pop extravaganza Boney M. Oh come on, I can't be the only one who knows all the words to Brown Girl in the Ring, can I?

Anyhoo, as a five-year-old, I swore blind to my classmates that he was my brother. Me: Ranga, paler than Snow White. Him? Not so much.

But here's the nice thing. Next day, one doubting pal came back at me with: "He can't be your brother because he's GERMAN."

There in I learned a lesson. If you're gonna lie, make it a good 'un. Oh, and kids are colour blind.

The bare-faced lie

"Will you please learn to wee in the toilet and NOT all over the seat?" This is a common refrain in our testosterone-heavy household.

"I'm not, I'm REALLY not."

He is. I can REALLY see he is. He is mid-flow and is doing a Jackson Pollock all over the loo. He will not clear it up because as already established, he didn't do it, and so I will walk in it later and then sit on the wet seat too. Squelch. But the doodle dribbler believes that if he keeps denying it for long enough and loud enough, I will believe him. I won't.

The blame lie

I was heavily pregnant with child number three when I discovered what can only be described as a skid mark on the landing carpet. A cream carpet. I suspected the sheepish looking nappy-wearer who was standing there with his eyes closed rocking the whole toddler 'if I can't see you, you can't see me' vibe.

"It wasn't me, it was him," he confidently claimed, pointing at my belly.

I'm no Sherlock but I'm sure I smelled a severe case of Pinnochioitis (as well as the skid mark).

The platitude lie

Compliments on your hair, when it hasn't been brushed in days and your only 'style' is to push it back with your sunnies or a new-found regard for your uniform of leggings and Uggies, are not to be trusted.

"You look beautiful Mum" or "You look younger than any of my friends' mums" should start alarm bells ringing. It's a platitude lie for the moment you discover the dog has Nerf gun bullets lodged in every orifice or that your prized orchid is stuck together with sticky tape after an altercation with a ball.

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